"And you wanted the Russian angle suppressed?"

Sprague winced. "Notsuppressed, George, of course not. But does one want such thingsbandied about before the Committee has had time to produce a definitive version of events? Surely it is the first duty of the Committee to discourage wild speculation. What, after all, does the evidence amount to? Russian weapons, easily available I believe; those telephone numbers-unlisted, as you were about to remind me, but not unascertainable -and an unidentified corpse. No hint of anyone else being involved at all. Might I beg of you just one more drop of this heavenly vintage?"

Georgegot up and refilled the glasses. "They're no further forward on the identification?"

"Not unless your colleague is picking him out of the rogues' gallery at this moment, which one doubts. Such people are unlikely to be common criminals. Thank you so much, you're too kind. Nothing on the body except that street guide, and as for fingerprints and dental records, I believe they're having trouble finding enough teeth or fingers. This is extraordinarily delectable; it wouldn't be one of the '48s, would it? Not a Taylor, surely? You lucky man, George."

"You don't think the unmarked clothes, empty pockets, that could be all of a piece with him destroying his identity by blowing his face off? To protect somebody else?"

"It is difficult," Sprague said judiciously, "to see that phrased in a Committee report. That he hid his identity, no question. But one could see that as the attitude of the lonely psychopath, a man who has sunk his identity in destroying the American President-perhaps any American President-planning meticulously through the years, collecting the wherewithal… the gun was quite an old one, they tell me; the grenade, too."

"He can't have counted on the Abbey. American Presidents don't drop in there every Thursday. And how did he plan a way in?"

"It's virtually a public place, George, and has been for seven hundred years. You can take tours, find whole libraries written about it-to be fair to Sir William, security there must be a nightmare. The Church of England is quite as lax in such matters as the Royal Family. I'm not saying I want to see the dear Archbish preaching heavenly bliss in a flak jacket, but… No, all quite within the compass of one twisted mind. This is purely a personal opinion-but infinitely less damaging, at this time, than unfounded speculation about foreign involvement."

Reluctantly, George had to agree with the common senseofthat."But even if we circle the Whitehall wagons, we're going to have the whole American nation shooting flaming arrows at us when tomorrow's papers come out. After all, we did nearly get their President bumped off."

"American Presidents are always being shot at; theyprobably get to like it, it does wonders for them in the opinion polls. Yes, the media will have a field day, but each under orders to find a unique interpretation of events, so the public will end up thoroughly confused as usual. Thank heaven a free press can't afford unanimity.

"But"-Sprague leant forward and became confidential-"if the White House or Capitol Hill starts getting uppity, there are Certain Steps we can take there. I am going to tell you something, since you've been so understanding and probably because you've got me tipsy on your priceless nectar "-George was sure Sprague had never been drunk in his adult life-"but I want your solemn promise it won't go an inch further, not even a Common Market millimetre. Agreed? It concerns the Reznichenko Memorandum. Can you cast your mind as far back as last month's headlines?"

George nodded slowly, reassembling the events in his mind. The Peace Crusade had overreached its funds and couldn't pay a printer's bill. Somebody had promptly paid the amount, in cash, to the Crusade's bank account. Sighs of relief all round, not least from the printer.

But then the 'Memorandum' had surfaced, seeming to prove that Lord Ettington, one of the Crusade's most prominent committee-men, had met with Reznichenko of the Russian embassy on the evening before the pay-in -an evening when Ettington should have been on the platform of a Crusade public meeting. Denying the obvious implication, the Crusade had turned up the credit slip accompanying the cash: it was signed Ettington. Denying that, Ettington had proved he hadn't withdrawn such a sum from his own account. Tactically, that had been a mistake, as had been his claim that he had missed the meeting because of a stomach upset.

After several days of Moscow denial ('a typical CIA plot'), press speculation and confusion in the Crusade, Ettington had revised his story: he had spent the evening with a lady whose name had been the last attribute he was interested in.

"Has somebody found the prostitute?" George asked.

"Oh no, there never was one. But quite a clever alibi: everybody loves to believe the worst, and it's usually truewhen it concerns Ettington's private parts. Really they're the most public part of the man; he's soindiscriminate." Sprague paused for a delicate shudder. "No, the truth is worse (or better): on the evening in question, me Lord was in dalliance vile with the wife of the Secretary of the Crusade-knowing the poor cuckolded Sec was anchored at the Euston Road meeting. You see the beauty of it now? If he admits the truth-and the lady will deny it, obviously-then he was merely using the Crusade to pursue his foul desires and has to resign as a cad and bounder, losing his only foothold in public life. So he has to let the plot stand and drag the Crusade down with him-and (we have our sources) some of their committee really do think he did a deal with Reznichenko."

George thought about it. "Somebody must have been keeping tabs on Ettington to know where he really was. Don't tell me it-"

"Itwas, George: our own dear Security Service. Habit, I suppose, they've been watching Crusade members for so long. It certainly wasn't their new Director-General who authorised it, not now the Cabinet's virtually joined the Crusade en masse. And I disclose no secrets when I say it wasnoithe D-G who brought it to us. But now the interesting speculation is who was truly at the root of it? Who was also following Ettington that night, to know he would be somewhere he daren't admit to-and doing it well enough not to be spotted by Security's watchers? Who could fake the Memorandum-Russian typewriter, the right paper, Reznichenko's signature, Ettington's -who has resources like that? And who profits by branding our Peace Crusade as Moscow-financed?"

George moved uneasily in his chair.

"You wouldn't suggest our own Intelligence Service?" Sprague said gently. "You certainly wouldn't suggest Army Intelligence. But you might, as the only other candidate, be forced to suggest the CIA. However much you hate to agree with Moscow, as one does oneself, they have to be right sometimes: dear Charlie's Indians are so activist. But you see what this means, George: déstabilisation. Treating us as if we were some little banana republic. The President traipsing around Europe with a Revivalist sermon in one hand and poisoning the water-holes with the other-"

"IFhe knew."

"None so guilty as those who choose not to know; he has to answer for Charlie's Indiansif we should respond to any Washington criticism of the Abbey-and the part my Office played in the security there-by Revealing All about CIA interference in our domestic affairs."

"Is this your Minister speaking?" George asked, surprised.

"The Minister, George?" Sprague was genuinely shocked. "You're being positively virginal; you don't suppose we've told the Minister about this. As soon shout it from the rooftops."

"But he has to answer for you in the end," George said dryly.

"Oh poof." Sprague shrugged the thought away. "The Minister will be fully briefed as and when he needs to be. / don't want an Anglo-American rumpus, nobody less, but nobody could accuse me of starting it. "